OILZZ and stuff
by mynameislizzie
Summary: Emily and Katie work in a massage parlour after their Dads bankruptcy. They don't like it, but it pays the rent. Naomi is an investigative reporter for the Post. She needs some 'hands on' experience to write her expose. I wonder if Emily will oblige? What do you think?
1. Chapter 1

**OK, so if it wasn't hard enough keeping track of two stories on the go, I've gone and done a garden-nomes and started this one too. Like 'Road' and 'Steamy' it involves Naomily, of course...and lots of horizontal jogging, so if you don't like smut or ridiculously hokey romantic interaction between females...you should probably move right along there. But then I remember that you probably arrived here because you like the looks of Naomi and Emily anyway, and if you've read any of my stuff before, you already know it won't be all Famous Five with anodyne plots and lashings of ginger beer (blame my mum for making me read those Enid Blyton books when I was a kid...I was CONVINCED Georgie girl was a budding lesbian...but I could have been wrong...I frequently am)**

**First chapter is short, because I'm not gonna waste too much time on it if you hate the idea. I've enough trouble keeping up with the other two stories, so if you don't like it...tell me, and I'll stop. Five lunchtimes, three evenings and one whole Saturday every week just writing is sort of stifling my social life...and I've noticed the reviews have tailed dramatically off for all my stories...maybe you're sick of me.? I hope not. But if you _are_, thats cool. I'll just go and haunt Meg Prescott's YouTube blog. She's hysterical.. Kat's far too grand nowadays to talk to us much...hint hint...and Lily never was much of a social media fan. Shame. Just as well they're drop dead gorgeous then, isn't it?**

**Anyway, the plot for this involves the '_Fingersmiths_' massage parlour, and if THAT doesn't give you a clue...you must be a man in disguise ;P**

**I don't own Skins or Kat and Lily, Meg and Kaya...yadda yadda, but then neither do Company Pictures now, they kinda lost the right to be possessive about them after '_7_', yeah? _collects 1,000,000 signature petition_**

**Onwards then...**

Emily

"This one is obviously yours" my sister grimaced as the next customer walked into the deceptively plush lobby of our workplace. Of course...it _would_ be...because 'it' was very definitely a woman. Katie doesn't 'do' women. Well, I'll rephrase that, in case you're confused. Since my dad lost his gym, the house and about 95% of all our possessions to a couple of blood sucking banks after he went bankrupt, we've been a bit pushed for cash. Actually, thats not quite accurate. We've been basically destitute. We left the house about 3.5 seconds before the bailiffs broke down the front door and took possession of everything we owned. Well. apart from half my wardrobe (not the better half, unfortunately) and my fanny box, as Katie so charmingly puts it, We are not only homeless, but fucking potless too.

Luckily, my savings account book was in my jeans, as I'd just stuck £50 in there for my, now defunct, Uni fund, but apart from that, nothing...nada...nichts. Fuck all in any language on earth. And I did better than my siblings or my parents. Katie got out with just a handful of leopard print and two thongs. My brother James had his Play Station and five pairs of dirty football socks. God knows what my parents carried out to the car whilst the bailiffs were breaking in. Not much, thats for sure.

So here I am, together with my less conversational twin. Not taking a well earned gap year travelling, as planned (all those hot South American dykes will have to get by without me) but here, now, working in a seedy 'massage parlour' to hopefully earn enough to get us out of that cold, leaky caravan my dad found us after we got thrown out. Not that my parents actually know what Katie and I are having to do to make a living. They think this is a respectable establishment, specializing in reiki, aromatherapy and Swedish massage. Well, on the surface...it is. Katie knew this guy, who knew this woman...you get the picture. The guy nearly creamed his jeans when we turned up. How many times do we have to reiterate that being twins doesn't mean _a_: we shag each other nightly or _b_: we 'entertain' our sexual partners collectively. Jesus, YouPorn has a lot to answer for...not that I watch YouPorn much...XHamster has a far better ratio of lesbian movies...Oh fuck, did I say that out loud?

Anyway. We got hired on the spot, on the strict condition (on our part) that we wouldn't massage together. If the clients wanted to indulge their fucking filthy twin fantasies, fine, we're **not **acting them out. Full stop.

Wouldn't work anyway. Katies straight, I'm gay...that's right 100% 'never want to even hold a cock' gay (and hasn't that worked out well, considering what I do for a living?). Have been since I was 14, or maybe even earlier, if my cute next door neighbour had been a bit more willing to play Nurse to my lady Doctor when I was 12. But enough of that. Katie gets most of the guys, and I get just the odd one and _all_ of the spare women. Don't get carried away with the idea that its a pleasure...well not for us anyway. I suppose Katie gets the benefit of trial running a few erections during her working day, but to be honest, most of the guys and women who show up here for 'treatment' are pretty unattractive. Most are well into middle age, and inevitably the initial 'massage' soon turns into a request along the lines of 'Do you do ..._extra's_?' Yuk.

Well we all do, otherwise we might as well be working in Maccy Dees. Minimum wage and all the plastic burgers you can inhale. 'Extras' involves what you are probably thinking._ I_ don't do anything more exotic than what is described charmingly as 'hand relief' and its easily as gruesome as you're probably imagining. Thank God for extra smooth, extra strong tissues and scented baby wipes. I'm pretty sure Katie is way better at it than me, but then she is playing to her strengths as it were. She probably disposes of the...results...more tidily too...I'm sure I saw a carton of extra strength mouthwash being hauled to her room yesterday...

Extras cost an 'extra' £20 per...activity. The punters pay £20 for the nominal massage, then upwards for whatever else the masseuse is prepared to offer. I might flash my, not very impressive, tits if a big enough bribe is put on the counter, but as far as participation is concerned, right hand only, arms length and "Here's a tissue mate, your mess, your problem". _No_ touchee the Fitch merchandise is _my_ mantra

So, if we entertain the average 10 punters a day, which is pretty normal, we get £15 of the extra. Tell me where I can earn £150 a day elsewhere, and I'll pack up my lace bustier and fuck off momentarily. Oh yeah, forgot to admit that little detail. Under our 'official' white button up uniform, we have to wear a black bustier, just in case (for that read every fucking time) a customer wants some visual stimulation while he's being...milked.

But I digress. Today Katie has just body swerved a female customer. Without even looking as the woman pays, I'm already undoing the top three buttons of my uniform, because even the female punters like to see some firm flesh before they open their wallets. I turn back to the pay desk with my normal plastic smile painted on ready to say hello..

And then I stop and my mouth falls open like a gallows trapdoor. Jesus H Christ on a bike. She's fucking _gorgeous_, my brain manages to squeak before expiring like a shot buffalo. Tall...well, taller than me at about 5'6", anyway, peroxide hair, but tastefully done, almost ash white, but not done over a home sink, thats for sure. It falls in soft waves over her shoulders and I take a moment to perv a bit as she's thumbing her PIN into the card reader. She smiles at the receptionist and I swear I had a mini there. Even white teeth, and a cute way of biting her bottom lip when she's asked a question. Don't ask me what the fucking question was, because at that second, she must have felt me staring, because she turned and looked at me quizzically. Now if I was having palpitations over her side view, I don't even know how to describe how I felt when I saw her eyes. Icy blue, with that dark ring round the irises which make them look wonderfully intense. Fuck...how was I gonna stay professional when she was looking up at me from my massage table...naked...waiting.

I'm cooked, I thought, put a fork in me and turn me over.

I only just stopped myself squeezing my legs together at that thought. Seeing as how she was still staring at me, I guess that would have been a bit of a give-away.

But dear Katie interrupted my reverie in her usual polite and considerate way.

"You might want to wait until you get her in private before your tongue does it's heat seeking bit" she whispered in my ear "God, _obvious_, much?"

Oh I did...I really did want to get her into my booth. I nearly rugby tackled Janice when the silly bitch looked round the reception area looking for volunteers.

"Err. I'll look after this lady" I said, stepping between the customer and Maggie, who was one of our other 'girl friendly' masseuses. No way was I missing an opportunity to for once have an attractive twenty something to work on. Sometimes this job does have its perks, I decided as I escorted her to my room.

I shut the door after her and motioned towards the paper covered leather table, probably the only piece of genuine quality in the whole place. She dropped her cream jacket on the chair by the door and I swooned a bit more. Oh Jesus, I thought, she has _great_ tits too...I promise to say a few Hail Mary's tonight in thanks, honestly, father...

"Actually, I've never had a Swedish massage before" she said, and I realised it was the first time I had heard her say anything. Her voice was low and pleasant, something else to add to the plus column, I thought.

"Thats fine" I said without the usual uninterested drone I used with clients "I've given quite a few. Just put yourself in my hands, and I guarantee a pleasant experience"

Fuck, did I actually say that? She smirked cutely at me, and I lowered my eyes before I gave myself away. Pull yourself together Emily, I told myself, its just a fucking girl. Alright, she's drop dead gorgeous, and why the fuck she is in here, getting a massage in a seedy off street parlour is anyone's guess, but you need to be professional. "_Get her number...get her number_" my inner devil taunted me

"If you'd just go into that cubicle"...I nodded towards the corner where there was a curtained off changing area "And slip out of your clothes. There is a towel inside which you can use?"

She did as I asked, and I only spoke to God a couple of times before she came out. I didn't think He would grant me this wish, but it doesn't hurt to ask, does it?

When she did come out, I turned my eyes away before I fucking lost control completely. Not only was she only just wearing that small towel, but those long legs seemed to go on for ever. If I have a type...and I'm guessing you have worked that little puzzle out already, she was probably top of my list. Blonde, blue eyes, tall, slim but with killer tits and about three years older than me. Tick, tick, tick went my mental check boxes. Why couldn't I have met her on Saturday night, in a club, where I could have plied her with alcohol and had my wicked way with her in a proper bed afterwards?

Because she's here, now, semi naked and waiting for you to string a coherent sentence together, my mind nagged me. Get a fucking grip, before she loses patience and finds another, English speaking masseuse.

"If you'd lie there, on the massage table, and lay the towel, just across...there, to preserve your modesty...I'll start" I said, not looking at all when she stared up at me, the towel now across her middle, unfortunately covering those magnificent tits and all points south.

I started slowly, with long strokes on her legs, easing the tension in them and only sweating slightly at the thought that her...fanny...was inches from my scented fingers. I used the minimum of oils, because I wanted to feel her skin under my hands. She laid there, breathing evenly and staring at the ceiling impassively. I was a bit disappointed to be honest. If there was ever a time when I wanted a client to ask for extra's and quickly... this was it. My brain was screaming at me "What are you going to say if she asks for..._oral_ treatment, Emily Fitch?"

The answer to that was in my increased breathing and heart rate. What would I do? Have three guesses, they'd all be spot on. In a second, I answered myself I bet she tastes as good as she looks. She felt wonderful, tight silky skin and muscle underneath and I started to enjoy this massage more than was strictly necessary. I knew the clock was ticking...we usually timed 'sessions' at 20 minutes, because most guys would be limp and post coitally embarrassed by then. But this was different, on all sorts of levels. I ignored the clock. As long as it takes, I thought...as long as it fucking takes.

Minutes passed.

"Err...Do you do...extras?" she said, breaking my concentration wonderfully.

I thought for a second my ears were playing tricks on me, and I stared at her stupidly for a second or two

"W..what?" I said eventually

"Extras?" she repeated, as if I was educationally challenged "Do you offer them?"

"Only for special clients" I said, still not entirely sure if she was asking for what I thought she was asking for "It costs quite a bit more" I added, dumbly

"Oh that's fine" she smiled, and I promised another twenty 'Our Fathers' to whoever was looking down on me today "I can pay whatever it costs"

For you, nothing is too much trouble, I thought, and as far as money is concerned, I would fucking pay _you_ if necessary.

"What sort of things do you offer?" she smiled cheekily, and I bit my own bottom lip this time, which she noticed immediately.

"Well" I started and then thought...it sounds a bit cold blooded just saying it like a shopping list, why don't I demonstrate?

"There's this" I said quietly, and pulled her towel off completely. She gasped a bit, but stayed still as I hungrily took in her naked body. My nipples were as hard as they had ever been, and I knew my thong would be soaked through too.

"And this" I smiled and unbuttoned my uniform, dropping it onto the floor. I saw her eyes widen at the bustier, which pushed my tits up perfectly, and inwardly cheered that it had that exact effect on her.

"And this" I said in a whisper and began to carefully and slowly caress and squeeze those beautiful breasts. She did that lip biting thing again and I watched her eyes widen even more. Her nipples were standing up proudly, and my thumbs found them automatically, circling and rubbing them. I spent a good two minutes just enjoying the heaviness and firmness of them. Jesus, she has great tits, I almost drooled.

"And this" I said finally pushing her legs apart gently and sliding both hands up towards the place I assumed we both wanted them to be.

She closed her legs before I got there and said in a voice as shaky as it was excited

"Shouldn't we agree a price for these...extra's first?" she said, looking me straight in the eyes.

Fuck it, I thought. Cards on the table. I was as excited as she was, and I wasn't going to be happy until I had her...properly. Fuck the money, fuck my boss. The door was locked and no one was gonna interrupt this.

"There's absolutely _no_ charge for this...err...? I'd say its a pleasure, but that would be the understatement of the year. You might not have noticed, but you aren't the only one excited here. I fancy you like...fierce"

She looked at me steadily for a moment before relaxing her leg muscles.

"It's Naomi" she said slowly "And that's a real pity..."

I stared at her in disbelief. She was going to say no to a 'free one' What the fuck?

"Did I do something wrong?" I stuttered as she sat up and jumped off the table in one move, making for the cubicle and her clothes.

"No" she said from inside, as I heard the rusting of clothes being criminally put back on that spectacular body. Seconds later she emerged, fully dressed and suddenly all business,

"Its... Emily...isn't it?" she said, glancing at my name badge on the uniform I had hastily put back on while she was changing. Suddenly I didn't feel so brave.

"Yeah" I said sadly "And I meant it. You're fucking gorgeous, and I would have offered you what you wanted for nothing. Sorry if you found me unattractive"

She smiled at me with something like real warmth as she waited for me to unlock the door.

"On the contrary" she said "I find you very attractive. Too attractive to do what I was supposed to do to you today. Look, could we meet up after you finish here? I know a place, down the High Street...Italian...Francesco's I think its called...shall we say 8ish?"

Fucking hell...she's asking me out on a date, I thought. I nodded as she handed me a card and swept out of the door. The door slammed behind her and it was a few seconds before I looked down at it.

'_Naomi Campbell – Journalist – Bristol Post_' It said.

Fuck...

**Well, worth carrying on with? You decide. Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Second chapter of oilzz then. It seemed to...go down...well, even though there was no actual going down, as it were. I know you were hoping...lol**

This from the beautiful Naomi's POV, and I'll probably alternate like this, without hopefully overlapping too much. I'm not a big fan of complete mirror chapters, which I find a bit boring.

_**As an aside, I'm going to shout out for help. Not on this little smut fest...for that's what its turning into inside the sewer called my mind, but for 'Long Road Home' What I need is someone who actually speaks Portuguese to send me a fairly long, and VERY filthy sexual suggestion. Something you might say if you wanted to shag someone, but didn't want them to understand. Without giving the next chapter away, one character is going to be very graphic about what they want to do to another character. Hopefully, as I seem to have picked up a few Portuguese and or Brazilian readers, one of you lovely ladies... or guys...I'm easy, will be able to give me a phrase I can insert. I'll need the English translation too...of course! **_

Anyway...on with the Fingersmith worker and the wily reporter.

Naomi

Why the _fuck_ I am sitting here, nervously shredding a serviette, I have no idea. What possessed me to invite Miss Hand Job 2013 out for a meal escapes me. The reason my boss chose me for this investigation is because she thought I could stay completely professional. Yeah, right. There was nothing professional about letting that little brunette play with my tits for nearly two minutes, was there?

I should have insisted she describe the 'extras' she was prepared to offer, and then 'made my excuses and left, in true News of the World style. OK, the N.O.W. is dead and buried under a mile of corruption and corporate greed, but the principle remains. Journalists get into tricky situations, but just when the dirty deed is about to happen, they throw back their cloak and reveal their superhero outfit beneath. Well, that's the theory anyway. A fucking theory which was blown completely out of the water whilst the cute, probably underage, girl was thumbing my fucking nipples. I mean, she was hot. Not just 'I wouldn't mind shagging THAT' hot, but OMG, I think I'm in love hot. No strike that. I'm _already_ in love, with a perfectly respectable girl called Annabelle, who works in an office, not a skanky massage parlour, buys me flowers at weekends, shags me twice a week, very satisfactorily, and wants to get engaged. In fact, I think she may be about to pop the question this weekend, judging by the interrupted whispered conversations she's been having with my mum recently. I haven't actually _seen_ a ring box, but I think it exists...

So why am I sitting here, totally off the work and personal life radar, waiting for this...girl...who played with my body and even more, my mind, this afternoon?

Because I needed to see her? Not really. I already know the place offers sexual extras. She may not have verbally listed what they were, but she had already started to demonstrate what she was happy to provide. No, I needed to see her because she made my tongue twitch and my toes throb. That's the honest answer. I may have dressed it up as professional interest, but the dampness in my knickers told a different story. I don't fucking _do_ cheating...I mean, I'd never even had a lesbian relationship till Annabelle came along. Strictly cock cruncher me, up until I met her. Then **bamm**, I find out what all the fuss was about, no more bristles, no more waiting till he was asleep to finish myself off, no more embarrassing moments when I refuse for the twelfth time to suck something hard and throbbing... Instead it was walks in the park, stolen kisses in deserted offices and then that weekend in Brighton where she showed me just what I'd been missing...no really. 69 was just a number to me before then. I had no idea that two women could make each other _that_ happy. I came more times in that weekend than in entire relationships before. So I was converted. Completely, and happily. My mum was over the moon. She told me she'd always known, which pissed me off mightily.

"If you knew mum, why the fuck didn't you say something, instead of letting me endure 5 years of fumbling men and sticky handkerchiefs?"

"Not my place to define your sexuality Naomi" she said, smiling that really annoying know all smile mothers have patented "We all have to take that journey alone...I didn't know if you were gay or bisexual, so I let you find out for yourself. When you're a teenager, it can go either way...I remember this girl Eva...when I was 17...we.."

"MUM!" I interrupted quickly " Spare me the gruesome details of your adolescent groping...please!"

Thank God she stopped there. I', psychologically scarred already, coming into her bedroom one morning to find my politics teacher...under the quilt...and I don't think he'd lost his lighter...

So she knew, knew more about me than I did myself, which did my ego no good whatsoever. But she was right of course. Once I accepted I was actually gay, and allowed Annabelle to tutor me very satisfactorily through my belated education, I never looked back. The fact that Annabelle had been my only female lover up to now had never been a factor. She loved me...and I loved that she loved me...that should be enough, shouldn't it?

Well, obviously not, because here I am. Sitting in a restaurant, waiting for a teenage 'masseuse' to meet me. I'm fucked, I thought for the 30th time today...

And then she was there...and fuck me, my toes started up again, not to mention my heart rate and perspiring palms. No bustier this time. I had trouble reconciling the miniature vamp of the parlour with this incredibly pretty but demure brunette. She was wearing a simple lemon summer dress, with spaghetti straps and a pair of flats. She looked about 16, but I knew she would be definitely over 18.. Jesus, I hope so. Trying to reveal an underage massage scam is one thing, being erotically massaged by a 16 year old is quite another...

"Hi" she said in that low husky voice which seemed too deep for her body " I wasn't sure you'd actually be here...I mean after this afternoon...?"

I hoped the internal twinge I got at the memory of her squeezing my tits wasn't outwardly obvious, but I swallowed hard and forced a polite smile onto my face as she sat down.

"So...?" I started...

"Emily?" She said

"Yeah...Emily" I said hoarsely "Tell me a bit more about yourself"

"Actually...before we start...can I ask a bit about _you_ first?"she said quietly

"Fair enough" I said "You know my name...and I've heard all the shoe and phone jokes, thanks all the same"

She smiled cheekily at that, so I knew it had been thought, if not said.

"I'm 23, a graduate of Goldsmiths University with a first in Politics. I work for the Bristol Post as a general correspondent, and I'm working on a case involving underage sex workers in Bristol"

"That's what you _do_, Naomi" she smiled "I want to know what you _are_..."

"Oh" I said " Direct... I like that. Well, like I said, I'm 23, I like sunsets, morning coffee, the colour yellow (fuck, I thought...she's wearing bright yellow...) and...I'm gay"

"I sort of figured that last bit out" she smirked " Not many straight girls come into my place of work to get their boobs stroked"

I think my blush was a fraction away from lighting the candle in the middle of the table, but the waiter beat me to it. I used the delay whilst we ordered wine and starters to try to return my features to neutrality. I didn't get away with it. When I next looked at her, she still had that faintly amused look on her face. I decided attack was the best form of defence.

"So...enough about me..what about you...Emily?"

"I'm Emily Fitch, I'm 19, nearly twenty" My mind registered relief at that. At least I hadn't been felt up by a minor "My twin sister and I work at that place because my dad went bankrupt last Christmas and we lost everything. House, car, clothes...everything. It pays up to £150 a day, which it would probably take a week to earn in Tesco's or Maccy Dees, so I reckon in about 3 months Katie and I will have enough put by to put down a deposit on a decent apartment. Then I can get back to getting my law degree and finding a proper career. Oh...and I'm gay too...in case you were wondering?"

I was, but I wasn't about to let her know that.

"Significant other?" I said...apropos nothing, because her relationship status wasn't on my check list at all. Fuck...why did I ask that, I thought?

"Why...are you planning on making a move on me...Miss Campbell?" She grinned cheekily.

"_In a fucking heartbeat_..." My treacherous inner voice said firmly " _in a_ _heartbeat_"

But I chickened out...of course. Being with Annabelle had taught me to be brave about revealing my new born sexuality...but it hadn't done much to improve my confidence with drop dead gorgeous women like this. Especially ones who were as confident about flirting as Miss Emily Fitch.

"Err...No...Professional interest" I lied " Just background stuff, really"

Her amused smile told me that she wasn't fooled for a second.

"Pity...Miss Campbell" she said "I might have said yes...if you'd asked me"

"Asked you what?" I said dumbly " I haven't asked you anything yet" I finished weakly

"Not with words" she smiled "Not with words...Naomi"

Fuck, if she was going to keep saying my name like that..I was worried that a whole new floor covering would be needed in Francesco's...I wanted her so bad, my mouth actually watered. What about Annabelle? My inner conscience nagged me, but it was alarming how I could block that thought, whilst not being able to suppress the wholly inappropriate fantasies my mind was weaving around a naked and writhing Emily Fitch...

"And you?" She said, for once dropping the cute smile

"What?" I tried, knowing exactly what she was asking, but trying to put it off as long as possible.

"Significant other?" she prompted...Again, not fooled. This girl had more steel than fluffiness when she wanted.

I considered telling the truth mum, I promise you. I know you brought me up to be honest and straightforward, despite the consequences, but you aren't here, now, with this glorious girl in front of you...her eyes telling me stories that I want to come true so much, I would probably sell my soul to discover.

Luckily, the waiter interrupted us with wine, bread and olive oil, so I had the chance to prepare myself for the biggest lie I had told in years.

"No one special" I lied, and she regarded me seriously before speaking.

We spent a few minutes looking at each other over wine glasses, and nibbling bread which tasted of nothing.

"Is the food in here really that good?" she said, looking around the busy restaurant. I blinked at the sudden change of tack.

"W...what...I mean...why?" I mumbled, still trying to stop trembling at my outright lie about Annabelle.

"Because if it isn't..." she reached over and took my hand in hers. An action which made my stomach clench nearly as much as my fanny had when she was playing with my tits this afternoon, "Could I suggest we skip the meal. I don't know about you Naomi...but I want you about as much as I've ever wanted a woman before. We could sit here, eat food we won't taste, drink wine we don't need, and talk about things we don't care about...or we could go back to your place...and finish what we started this afternoon. I could be totally misreading the signals here...but I really want to...get to know you Naomi...do you...want to get to know me?"

I swallowed a mouthful of wine and stared at her...Jesus, straight to the point, or what?

"We've only just met" I spluttered, trying to rescue some control of the situation

"True..." She murmured, still holding my hand " So, are you saying no to...getting to know me... then"

Throwing a fifty on the table, which was about three times what I owed for the bread and half bottle of Lacrima Di Christi white wine we had barely touched, I stood up and looked down at Emily.

"I could lie...and tell you I don't feel the same way you do...but I'm guessing you'd see through that. I've never done anything like this before Emily... and I might live to regret it. But fuck it...come on then"

I don't remember a thing about the walk to my apartment, which, luckily was less than half a mile away. I just remember opening the door and watching her slam it behind us, then turning to look at me like she wanted to devour me in one sitting.

"I've never...ever done anything like this before either Naomi" she breathed "But if you don't kiss me now...and I mean right now, I might explode all over your expensive carpet"

"That would be unfortunate... not to say messy Emily" I managed, with the last coherent thought in my mind for the next half hour "I have plans for those...fucking...beautiful...adorable... kissable lips"

So I kissed her...and she kissed me back. I don't know what the fuck I have been doing for the past 8 years, since my first attempted snog in the Cineplus with Malcolm Grainger, but it wasn't kissing, that's for sure. At least not if _THIS_ was kissing. I nearly drowned in softness, in wetness and in total, undeniable...toe curling... pleasure. She held onto my hips while I tried to map out her mouth with mine. I don't remember who used their tongue first, just that when we touched, it was like a virtual explosion in my brain...and places further south. Both of us were moaning, and both of us were tearing at buttons and zips. By the time she had walked me backwards to my bed, I was stripped to the waist, and her breasts were caressing mine like extra hands. When I fell backwards onto the bed, I watched her drop the dress from around her waist into a yellow puddle at her feet. She wasn't wearing a bra, and my mouth went completely dry as I realised that her white thong was so thin and wispy, I could see right through it. She was already wet for me...

"Off!" She said gruffly, looking down at my own skirt. I nearly gave myself a hernia tearing it off, together with my oh so sensible stripy girl shorts. I caught her small grin at what I was hiding under my skirt, and inwardly cringed that I hadn't thought to wear something sexier for her.

When I was naked, and she had dropped the tiny thong onto the dress on the floor, she took one last hungry look up and down my body before lowering herself slowly on top of me. We fitted together like we had been designed as complementary beings. She took her weight on her elbows and let her nipples graze mine until we were both groaning at the teasing.

After that, it was all a bit of a blur. A fantastic, sensation filled, erotic blur, but still a blur. If Annabelle had been a revelation in bed, Emily was a supernova. I don't know if it was just that we were made to give each other pleasure, but there didn't seem to be any limit to how high we could take each other. She kissed me all over, reveling in my whimpers and whispered pleas, she licked me, she fingered me and finally she fucked me...hard and fast. At the end, when she had teased me to distraction, stopping just before I came...over and over again..I held her head in both hands and growled at her.

"Emily...if you don't finish me now...I'm going to actually die from frustration"

She grinned up at me from between my legs, her lips wet from my excitement, then dipped down again...thrusting three fingers straight inside me, using her tongue in counterpoint to the fast in and out movements. I threw my head back and screamed my release towards the uncaring ceiling. She wasn't finished though, and slowly licked me through the aftershocks, building the sensations past anything I had known before. I didn't think I was capable of another orgasm that quickly, but she proved me wrong. Oh Annabelle, I thought...if you were 6th form college, this is a fucking Masters Degree...

When I returned the favour... Which took quite a while, as I needed more recovery time than I'd ever needed before, I was determined to equal her efforts. I don't know if I succeeded, but my hair roots can testify to her grip. She was quieter than me when she came, but her body shook like she had been plugged into the mains. When we finally finished pleasuring each other, we were drenched in sweat and trembling like two shipwrecked souls, cast onto a far away beach. I'd never had sex like that before, but I knew if I lived another hundred years, no one else would be able to wring another ounce of sensation from me again. She fucking ruined me that day. Ruined any chance of ever being the same Naomi Campbell again...ruined any hope of me and Annabelle getting married, and totally ruined the chance of finding anyone else who could come close to utterly destroying me in bed.

We both slept for an hour after we'd whispered casual nonsense to each other for a few minutes...and when we woke...we went at it again... Slower, more tenderly, but with exactly the same result. This time, when we came...within seconds of each other, we were face to face, on our sides, fingers busy between the others legs. Her eyes held mine as she shuddered in surrender. I didn't know it then, but I fell in love with Emily Fitch at that moment.

I woke up first and turned to face her. She was curled up like a little dormouse, hands under her chin, fists clenched. My heart lurched as I looked at her sleeping. Awake, Emily was a sexual tornado, all invention and eagerness, asleep she was just plain adorable. She looked younger than her 19 years, and as I brushed a lock of hair away, so I could see her whole face, I thought again that she had ruined me for anyone else. I got another sharp pang of guilt as Annabelle's face appeared in my mind. Dear, sweet Annabelle. Endlessly loving, endlessly forgiving...although she wouldn't be...not this time. We'd never cheated on each other, not even at first, when sex with another girl was new and strange and...terrifying. She'd been patient with me and my stupid, closed off mentality, always over analyzing and finding ways to fuck things up. And now, here I was, in bed with another girl...a girl who had blown all my smug conceptions and certainties out of the window. A girl, who in one afternoon, had changed the way I think about everything.

She stirred as I watched her, and spoke without opening her eyes.

"If you're gonna eye fuck me Naomi...you might want to wait till I'm conscious?"

I grinned as she opened her eyes and stared at me, a cheeky smirk on her face.

"I wasn't planning on using my eyes..." I whispered, reaching out and pulling her to me. She opened her mouth and accepted my hungry kiss eagerly...

15 minutes later, with all my fresh fears and uncertainties blown away by another slow and erotic make out session, I fell back onto the bed and looked up at the ceiling.

I felt her turn onto her side and face me. She traced my face with her fingertips and then took my hand, kissing it and licking my fingers which still held her scent.

"Naomi?" She said quietly "What _are_ we?"

I turned to face her and saw the doubt in those beautiful eyes. I realised that she was as shocked as me at what we had just shared.

"We're Naomi and Emily..." I said "We've just met, and I think we're both fucked...and I don't mean physically"

"Yeah..." She breathed " That's pretty much what I think...but where do we go from here?...I mean... I really like you...not just like this...in bed...but I think we both know this could be something special...something big..."

I swallowed hard...I knew exactly what she meant, but I had no more idea than she did about what to do about it. And unlike Emily... I had a secret...a secret which wouldn't go away. A secret called Annabelle...

"What do you want us to be Emily?" I said, harsher than I meant to sound, looking into her eyes and wishing I could change the facts as easily as I changed copy at work " Like you said, we've just met...and had the most amazing sex...but we hardly know each other...I mean, I'm a journalist who's supposed to be investigating the place you work...and tomorrow you'll go back to...doing what you do...with strangers...I don't actually _know_ how we're going to make this work"

Me and my big mouth. I always had the capacity to make a hard situation worse, and here I went again.

"So this is just like...research for you then" she said bitterly "Fuck the little 'prostitute' and forget about it tomorrow?"

"No...Emily, that's NOT what I meant at all...I'm sorry..."

But she was up and out of the bed before I could say anything else. I sat up and watched her putting her dress back on, shooting me angry looks as she looked for her shoes.

"I'm not your fucking experiment" she growled..."Anyway...aren't we doing this a bit back to front...shouldn't you be leaving me...and fifty quid on the dressing table...seeing as how I'm the tart in this relationship?"

I tried to tell her I was sorry, but she waved away my protests.

"No, Naomi..." She said in a brittle voice " I think we're clear now. You can go back to your perfect life tomorrow. I'll go back to being a whore...and you can use tonight as stimulation...next time you fuck a 'normal' woman"

And then she was gone. Just the echo of the slammed door testament to her absence.

I dropped back onto the bed and blew a deep breath towards the ceiling. Nice one, Naomi, I thought...now you don't have a problem to discuss with Annabelle... Do you?

XXX

Emily

My eyes burned with hot tears on the way home. What had I even been thinking about? I must have some sort of inbuilt beacon that attracts trouble. After Sasha, I should have known better. My ex had comprehensively destroyed my self confidence after shagging my best friend at that party, and now I've gone and thrown the dice again on some stuck up uber professional who fancied mixing a bit of pleasure with her business. How could I have been so wrong? The sex was awesome...even if it had been a while since I've let myself go like that. I thought we had something there. Contrary to what she obviously believed, I don't give out that many 'extras' and I definitely don't meet up with 'clients' to shag after work. The sex had been a very welcome side salad...the main course had been the instant attraction I'd felt for this Naomi Campbell. I tore the business card with her name on it in half and dropped it in the nearest litter bin. As I waited for the bus, I told myself that I was never going to fall for that sort of bullshit again. Next time I'm horny and bored, there's a battery powered friend in my bedside cabinet who never disappoints...and doesn't need any maintenance.

I slept fitfully that night. She didn't have my mobile number anyway, so at least I didn't have to endure any half arsed apologies...that's if she even cared that she'd upset me. Luckily the next day was my last shift for the week, so after Katie and I split in reception, I closed my mind to yesterday, and 'serviced' my normal 6 clients for the afternoon. One flash of my, not very impressive, tits...5 hand jobs and one dirty talk episode whilst the client...helped himself' and I was about ready to call it a day. It was early evening, and I was planning to go out and get wasted with my new best mate Tara. She was straight...well bi...one frantic against the wall finger fuck when we were at college hadn't gone any further, and we had stayed friends after. So we were going to get hammered in the corner pub next to my road, before hitting some potent E's I had scored from my sisters boyfriend, and then Jammers Club...a few more beers, another E and if I was lucky, a straight girl with curiosity overload after I flashed my best 'come and fuck me' smile. Straight girls never come back for more...once they sober up, its back to the missionary work with the boyfriend. Perfect distraction technique for my aching heart.

I started to pack up my stuff and put away the small bottles of scented oil on my table. No more messy tissue today, if I was lucky. When the intercom on the wall next to my door buzzed, I groaned in frustration. Bollocks...another hyper punter with a hard on and no one to take care of it for him.

"I know you're finishing" Maggie said "But this one asked for you specially...said it won't take long"

I thought about saying no...but another client was at least another £15...enough to buy a round of flaming sambucca's. Fuck it...I took down the cheapest bottle of oil...no point in wasting the good stuff on a 30 second wank. If he was that excited already, that's all it would take. I pulled out a good handful of tissues and stuffed them in my uniform pocket.

When the door opened, and I heard someone coming in I was facing the small opaque window to the alley. I spoke without looking round.

"Take off your things...I'll be with you in a second"

"Emily?" a voice spoke...a voice which definitely didn't come from a nervous male punter " Can we talk?"

I spun round so fast, I nearly did a complete 360.

"Naomi?" I said "What the _fuck_ do you want?"

She smiled at me weakly, a smile I didn't return. I looked back at her coldly.

"I said what do you want Naomi" I spat.

"I need to tell you something" she started

"What...you've discovered that you can't get it cheaper on the High Street...that after hours visiting service is more convenient? What is it exactly that you want to say to me that you haven't already said?"

I started towards the door, determined to throw her back out in the corridor. Fuck the £15, fuck the boss...fuck the receptionist who would report me to him. I wanted her out... Now.

She stood in front of the door, blocking my way.

"Out of the way" I growled, but she stood her ground.

"Not till you hear what I've got to say" she said' and for the first time, I noticed that her eyes were puffy and red. Someone else had done some crying then.

"I lied to you" she said flatly

"No shit Sherlock" I snorted "What about...being gay, because I'm sorry sweetheart, no one straight could have enjoyed that as much as you did? Or about being interested in me..instead of just my massage technique?"

"Neither" she said, a fresh tear slowly making its way down her cheek " I lied about not having a significant other"

"Oh fucking great!" I said bitterly "So not only did you fuck me...and fuck me over...but you're a fucking cheater too...this just gets better and better...now get out of my way before I knock you out"

She shook her head, eyes looking everywhere but back at me.

"No" she said, and I wondered briefly if extreme stupidity was a requirement for journalists nowadays

"Because I'm not cheating anymore...I dumped my girlfriend this afternoon...I dumped her because I haven't been able to get you out of my head...not for an hour...not even for a minute. I have no idea if we can make this work. I have no idea if you can forgive me...but all I do know is that I have to try...I'm asking you for one more chance...just one"

Jesus, how do you follow that kind of confession?

"So let me get this straight then " I said "You came here yesterday to do some research, fancied me, arranged to meet me after work...screwed me, lied to me about your other half, and then more or less told me that as I'm a prostitute, you don't know if it could work out, and now...now you've dumped your girlfriend, and expect me to what...take you back with open arms...fall into your embrace like the wimp you obviously think I am?"

"Thats pretty much it..." She said " except, I don't and never have thought of you as anything but Emily...someone I really want to get to know properly. And I dumped my girlfriend because telling you one lie was bad enough. I wasn't going to tell you another. I have no idea why I'm behaving totally out of character. I don't do spontaneity, I don't do random things. But in one afternoon, you've turned my world upside down. I thought love at first sight was total bullshit...and I might still be right about that. But I think you felt what I felt yesterday, and I'm here to see if I can apologize properly for being such a tit, and to...see if you'll give me the chance to put it right?"

Well, I wasn't expecting that. I stood there with my mouth open for a bit. I wanted to hate her, I wanted to tell her to fuck off...but somehow the words wouldn't form in my mouth.

She must have seen the conflict in my eyes, because she closed the space between us. Jesus, I couldn't think straight before. Now when she was this close, her eyes holding mine and her face so close I could feel her breath on my skin, I seemed to have lost the power of rational thought completely.

"This doesn't mean you're forgiven" I said weakly..."This doesn't mean I'm not still really angry with you for assuming things about me...this doesn't..._

I never got to finish that sentence, because a pair of soft and searching lips covered mine and two possessive arms folded round me until I couldn't move.

"I want to take you on a proper date,..Emily Fitch" she said , moving her head to the side and whispering in my ear. But first...first...I really need to...I have to..."

She didn't need to finish that sentence either. In seconds my clothes and hers were on the floor. The door was double locked and we found out that the expensive padded massage table was plenty strong enough to take two...I'd never been much for the 69 position...usually I'm either concentrating too hard on getting the woman under me (OK, so I'm a natural top...) to come, that I don't orgasm myself, or vice versa...if she's good at it, I get immersed in what I'm experiencing and don't get her there. Another fucking example of the strange and frankly disturbing way this woman works outside the norms. She had her head propped up on two pillows below me...there...and her tongue was relentless. And even though I was concentrating on giving her the biggest orgasm of her life... And believe me, I was fucking _trying_...she still managed to get me off within seconds of her bucking upwards and pushing my head hard between her legs. The fact that she was moaning into my cunt while she was coming had a lot to do with the frantic way I came too. Nothing like a bit of verbal encouragement...

Unfortunately, the table only being 3 feet wide, there wasn't enough space for a lot of post coital pillow talk. I wish I could control myself better around her, but it never seemed to happen. Whatever happened to three dates, coffee and _then_ sex?...we seemed to have bypassed all the usual mating rituals. I had no way of resisting her when she was in touching distance, and it seemed that the feeling was mutual.

We dressed a damned sight slower, in that sort of semi embarrassed way you do when you sleep with someone new. Not that I'd woken up, or shared a bed with too many other women. I'm ashamed to say that most of my sexual experiences have been of the one off, club toilet type. Usually when I'm stoned and pissed. I am braver then, more likely to take a chance on a rebuff from whoever is currently grinding against my arse on the dance floor. I'm not a complete slut...but the last 3 girls I've shagged have names I couldn't tell you from memory. If I was pushed, I'd describe them as tall girl, small tits, came on my fingers and then ran out... Short blonde girl, bigger tits, wanted to feel what a girls tongue felt like...down there..and after she came, screaming...refused to finish me off...and Emo girl...great tits and vocabulary...wanted to take a picture of me on her iPhone whilst I was going down on her in the hallway of my building... Not exactly firm friends, any of them.

"So..." I said, after were both decent..."Where does this go from here?"

**And that my lovelies, is the second chapter. Love it, hate it? Let me know either way. More from 'Long Road Home' next...**


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